Dallying With The Writer
by kenobiwan
Summary: A cheeky encounter between Christian and Satine at the Moulin Rouge. Uses Jeff Buckley's song 'Everybody Here Wants You.'


Disclaimer: Christian, Satine, Toulouse and Zidler are the property of Baz Luhrmann and Bazmark. The song 'Everybody Here Wants You' is the property of Jeff Buckley.

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Christian whooped as the surging crowd pushed him through the heavy wooden doors of the Moulin Rouge. It did not matter how many times he came to the torrid dancehall, there was still somthing that made his heart beat faster every time. His eyes gleamed with excitement and expectation.

A nudge from Toulouse took his attention to the small man, who made a deft gesture towards one of the red curtains surrounding the inside of the hall. Sparkling blue eyes met his own. It was her. Toulouse nodded to Christian, almost as if granting his permission. The young poet grinned foolishly, and made his way to her through the throng of patrons.

No words were needed between the two lovers. A sly wink from him, a mischevious smile in her part, and the forbidden kisses that they shared. They whispered promises of meetings after the performance, and then he was gone as quickly as he came. She smiled to herself and lightly grazed her fingers over her lips, as she lazily wandered back to her dressing room.

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"Twenty nine pearls in your kiss, a singing smile"

Christian smiled from the shadowy recesses of a booth. The poetry had started already. Sweet, elegant words that seemed to be spoken to him by a voice other than his own. He glanced around for something to write them down with, but there was nothing. He sighed, simply locking them away in his memory.

"Gentlemen, please." Harold Zidler's voice boomed, hushing the roar of the crowd to a murmur. he paused for a moment, wondering if an elaborate introduction was necessary. He decided against it. "May I present, Miss Satine."

The men whistled excitedly at the very mention of her name. Christian was amused to note that the roly-poly man sitting at the table next to him felt the need to dab his face with a hanky every few seconds, such was his rapture over a simple name: Satine. The lights went low, and the slow, sultry opening bars of a jazz song drifted through the hall.

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"I know everybody here wants you.

I know everybody here thinks he needs you."

Christian put down his glass. He could hear Toulouse scrambling around with something next to him. Paper. And charcoal. Christian grinned widely.

"I knew I could count on you Toulouse."

"What are you talking about? Cwistian! I need that!"

"I need it more." he said, snapping the charcoal stick in half and giving a piece to the small man beside him. Toulouse looked at the stump, and muttered something in French. Christian paid no heed, as he was alreadly scribbling down the first lines of his new poem. If it had not been for the crowd's gasp, he might have even missed her entrance.

She stood in the centre of the stage, with the radiance of the sun, the poise of a diva, and the beauty of an angel. His heart thudded in his chest as she crooned the song's opening lines. He loved her so much. He knew it was insane; they'd known each other barely a week, but he couldn't care less. She was his, and he was hers, and that was all that mattered.

He watched as she made her way through the crowd, and watched the old men in their top hats and tails shower her with gifts. Golden pocket watches, diamond tiaras, and necklaces dripping with rubies. Worth an extraordinary amount of money, but of no value to her. Her searching eyes finally locked in his. Him. He was worth everything.

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"I'll be waiting right here just to show you

How our love will blow it all away."

He lifted his eyes from his paper and was met by her crystal gaze. She made her way over to where he was sitting, but faltered when he gave her a cautionary glance. She understood. They were treading on eggshells as it was, and had to hide any trace of the fact that they were sleeping together.

"Fine," she thought "If I can't touch him, I'll tease him."

A speciality of hers, but not something she had tried on someone she had felt such strong desire for. She smiled lustily, and made her way to 'Roly Poly', less than a foot away from Christian. The poor man didn't know what to do as she lowered herself onto his lap. His face flushed red, and his mouth opened and closed like a goldfish as he stared at the fiery-locked vixen straddling him. Christian covered his mouth with his hand to muffle a laugh. she turned to face him and lightly ran her tongue over her lips. He raised an eyebrow, still chuckling.

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"Such a thing of wonder in this crowd."

She reached past him, her breath hot against his face, and lifted a vacant chair over the head of Roly Poly. A quizzical look bore into her back as she sashayed to the middle of the dance floor. She theatrically set the chair down with a 'thunk', and walked around it once, eyes focused intently on Christian. He was leaning back in his chair, with a slightly smug smile on his face, as if challenging her to do her worst. It seemed to both of them that the rest of the world had dropped away. All they could see was each other, and all they could hear was their own pulses pounding.

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"I'm a stranger in this town, you're free with me."

As he watched her intently, she threw her head back and ran delicate fingers over her lips, neck and breasts. He heard a heavy moan from Roly Poly on his right, but it barely registered. He felt his body temperature rise quickly as Satine lowered herself onto the chair and began to grind into it painfully slowly.

"Christ." he breathed, loosening his collar. Even Toulouse had stopped his drawing and was staring in wide eyed amazement. Her face was creased in concentration, and a barely audible gasp escaped her lips as he pushed herself on to a hard edge.

"Oh, CHRIST." he whimpered, pulling his chair closer to the table, to his growing excitement could not be seen by the others. She'd won her little game. She'd won hands down. Their eyes met again, clouded with pure lust.

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"And our eyes locked in downcast love, I sit here proud."

They were so connected at that moment, yet so physically distanced. He was battling to keep his hands above the table, but she had no such restrictions. The hotter she got, the hotter the room got. The customers had got their money's worth, and then some.

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"Even now you're undressed in your dreams with me."

He wanted her. He had wanted her before, but nothing like this. He wanted to make love to her with wild and animalistic passion. To satisfy her so completely she would not be capable of movement until the early hours of the next morning, when she would awake in his arms. He grunted, and sat up straighter, almost as a signal to her.

In a rush, reality came back to her, and she found herself staring into the faces of a thousand breathless men. Her lover among them. Panting ever so slightly, and with shaky legs, she picked up the chair and made her way back over to Christian.

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"The sea of fools has parted for us, there's nothing in our way, my love."

He gave her a meaningful look as she replaced the chair. It said more than a thousand words could have. She nodded ever so slightly at him, understanding. As she turned to bid the crowd farewell and collect her gifts, he left his seat and slipped quietly backstage. A few deep breaths helped to clear his head and slow his pulse a little.

It was only a matter of moments before she was with him, and only a matter of moments before the blood was pounding in his ears again.

"You're going to be the death of me, you know that?'

"Mmmm" she purred "I can think of worse ways to die."

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"You're just the torch to put the flame to all our guilt and shame."

Their lips met roughly and hungrily. Zidler was out on stage, so they had a few precious minutes to themselves before he came bumbling back to congratulate Satine on her performance. The courtesan's roaming hands found their way between the young poet's legs, causing him to moan loudly into her mouth. He dropped his head to her shoulder, laughing, as he eased her hands away from his crotch.

"Later." he breathed, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her again. In their deep, slow kiss he could taste the faintest trace of coffee on her breath. Ever so slowly, he pushed his hips up to hers and held her against him firmly. Any movement by either of them sent tiny shockwaves through their muscles. She could feel her pulse thundering through her body, and his firmness pressing into her inner thigh. She was desperate to get him upstairs.

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"And I'll rise like an ember in your name."

He pulled out of the kiss agonisingly slowly, gently sucking on her bottom lip as he drew back. He waited patiently for her to open her eyes. When she did, they shone like jewels.

"Christian..." she whispered.

He shook his head and silenced her with a kiss. Then he simply turned and walked away.

She watched him leave, silently praising his self-control, and also cursing it. She checked one of the pocket watches given to her. She would have to wait another quarter of an hour before she could leave. She smiled. Her only consolation was the knowledge that he would be waiting for her. She could still feel him, and smell him, and taste him. They had spent every night together since they had met.

But, she reflected as she headed back to her dressing room, tonight was going to be different.

Tonight was going to be incredible. 


End file.
